Pollen and Salt
by foxy crimefighta
Summary: of more than crooked frames and dusty pianos and tainted memories. here, where nothing is real and you're painting lies across the canvas. —Will and Elizabeth, preCotBP.


**POLLEN **_and _**SALT**

warnings: may not be entirely historically accurate. may not be entirely in character, though i certainly hope i did a somewhat respectable job. slight norrington bashing.

-

_somewhere on coastlines unknown to me, you paint your dreams - in reds and blues and greens - and you're painting daffodils by the sea .. _**without me**.

- daphne loves derby; pollen and salt.

-

It was a ridiculous sentiment, she knew. Honestly, she felt like a fool, having not the slightest idea what gave her this stupid notion in the first place. However, here she was - Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King - seated on a large rock on one of Singapore's many islands, and surrounded by a select few different paints and a canvas. They were bought on an impulse, for she neither knew how to paint nor had ever watched someone paint before, but she felt the overwhelming need for something to distract her from the unbearably empty ache, constantly present, always hurting, forever ripping her heart in pieces at the loss of the one she loved.

It had been but a month, and already the despair had begun to build to a tremendously devastating level as she sunk more and more into depression every day. She didn't know if she would last ten years of spending every night lying awake in bed, curled around the chest containing her husband's still-beating heart with her ear pressed to the side, imagining that the iron chest was the real thing; and every day spent ruthlessly commanding her crew of Singaporean pirates, leaving behind a cruel streak that drowned out her sorrow.

Sniffing, she thrust her mind quickly in another direction, picked up the yellow, and began.

-

_"Miss Swann! Miss Swann, where are - oh, there you are. Um, well, how do you do? I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush; I should hope you would be well, but I've been looking everywhere for you, I have a message to deliver to your father about his acquisition from Mr. Brown, could you, um, please be so kind as to .. deliver it to him? I shouldn't think anyone should let me into your manor in _this _poor state I'm in -"_

_Thirteen-year-old Elizabeth Swann had long since jumped up from her tedious chore of gathering flowers for supper that night - her father was apparently hosting guests of some high class nature, and she had unknowingly volunteered for the most tiresome job she had ever bestowed upon herself. True, the task had granted her fair respite from other less-than-exciting commissions - such as wandering aimlessly around her home, or sitting near the beach daydreaming yet again - but honestly, _no _flowers in this godforsaken garden matched well enough, and she had grown frustrated enough every second she had to stand contemplating, _violets or lilies?

_Elizabeth made haste to interrupt young William Turner's shy and nervous ramblings, though not without a slight bit of contempt, for they had not even seen each other in _weeks_, so it would seem, and this was all he had to say to her, all the while avoiding her gaze? She had missed him enough to provoke wretched dejection, for Will was quite possibly the only person on this island that allowed her even the briefest bit of fun; an escape from all the dreary usual._

_"Will, do be quiet!" and she rolled her eyes. With a tinkly little laugh, she set down the flowers she had already decided upon, and raced to where he was uncertainly leaning against the garden wall, fidgeting with his hands to make them appear somewhat clean on his dirt-covered shirt. Ignoring his timid intake of breath, she promptly threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I missed you!" she exclaimed without the slightest sense of propriety._

_Will, unfortunately, was not lacking this trait. "Miss Swann -" he began uncomfortably, and Elizabeth reluctantly let go, with a muttered, "_Elizabeth, _it's _Elizabeth" _under her breath._

_It still hadn't escaped her notice that he hadn't looked her in the eye yet. He had never acted this way before around her, with the exception of when company was present, and she couldn't help wondering now why he found her so revolting all of a sudden as not to acknowledge her presence._

_They were friends, weren't they?_

_"Miss Swann -" _

_"ELIZABETH." In retrospect, she did notice she interrupted Will an awful lot. Maybe that was why he abhorred her?_

_"Um, yes, Miss Elizabeth, I really must give the governor this message and get back to the smithy .."_

_She shook her head with disdain, and made certain he had finished speaking for several long moments, before nearly shouting, "Nonsense! Come down to the docks with me, like we used to, all the time!"_

_It would certainly be a welcome release from merely wandering about the beach on her own, that quickly became boring. She hoped that by taking Will to a familiar place he would act like the familiar boy she wanted to see so very much!_

_The boy in question stuttered for a moment, before finally blurting out, "Um, o-okay, alright. But only just for a while!"_

_The last sentence was just a slight louder than necessary, for in her haste Elizabeth had seized his arm and begun dragging him out of the garden and down the road, ignoring his mild protests that the dirt clinging to his tanned arm was ruining her gown, for it was already as ruined as could be with filth stains resulting from all the digging she had to do with those dreadful flowers._

_"Come, come this way! Let's do our best to avoid those dreadful patrols! Last time I came down to the beach - I do believe it was yesterday, in fact - I ran into Commander Norrington, and that was simply awful. He's such a .. such a prick, don't you think?"_

_Will's eyes grew wide, but in a hushed tone (not nearly as loud as Elizabeth's) he replied, "I do! He was in to acquire a new sword for his subordinate, it was appalling. I might've wanted to pick my nose or something equally repulsive just to get a reaction out of him!"_

_Elizabeth burst into laughter as she and the boy ran through the dark alleyways. There was the Will Turner she knew! "I quite agree! So pompous and holier-than-thou type." Her voice changed rapidly from agreeable to dripping with disgust. " I just hate that, I hate having to be all polite and pleasant to him all the time, even when he says the most horrible things - do you imagine, he was telling me all about the gruesome death he administered on a group of pirates by way of hanging, I very nearly cried at the thought! There was apparently this boy, you see, no older than I or you, to be sure - they _hung_ him, Will, he was but a boy! He probably knew nothing other than piracy, he probably grew up into it, and they killed him!"_

_Will was silent, his face icily empty. "Shall we," he said after a moment of quiet, for Elizabeth had realized she had been talking too much, and had grown silent as well, "talk of other, more pleasant things, in the short time we have?"_

_After a moment's pause, she reluctantly agreed, the scent of salty ocean waters and fresh air lingering on her nose; they were almost there._

_She hadn't realized she was still clutching Will's arm until he pulled her underneath a short bridge to keep her distracted mind from running straight into a Royal Navy officer._

_"Thank you," she gigging quietly, for fear of her and Will being discovered was a thrill to her; sent shivers down her spine. He laughed in return, and she noted for the hundredth time that his was a very nice laugh, if only he would execute it more often._

_When the coast was clear, she counted to three, and they ran as fast as they could to the escape of the clear blue sea._

_-_

_"Oh, Will," Elizabeth laughed some time later, spinning around in circles with her arms spread wide to the heavens, when the sun was just beginning to set into vibrant colors of dandelion and tangerine and magenta, and she collapsed against the soft white grains of sand beside the boy. "Hasn't today been grand? It's the perfect weather out, and not a sign of the Navy since we've got here!"_

_He grunted in the positive, tracing patterns into the sand and fiddling with seashells they had gathered together. Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder, and he stiffened for a moment in surprise before smiling gently and relaxing under her touch. An idea brushing his mind, the boy plucked a tall grass from the soft sand and began stringing the seashells onto it by the holes naturally growing in them. Finishing that, Will tied the end into a knot and waited a moment before coughing pointedly._

_When the girl next to him looked up contentedly, he quickly thrust the handmade necklace into her hand, shyly, he looked away in embarrassment before hearing her squeal of gratitude and, "Will, thank you, it's beautiful! Such a grand remainder of our memories!"_

_Will chuckled. "It's not all that. They're just shells, Miss Elizabeth. You helped collect them yourself .."_

_She wasn't hearing any of it. "But you gave them to me, and I shall wear them for all my life! And," she added excitedly, "we shall make more memoirs of our adventures together, and we shall be together forever! Then we will surely be certain never to forget each other, because that would be a most dreadful concept. You're my only real friend, Will!"_

_She gazed up at him, smiling, and brushed a stray piece of wonderfully silky dark hair from his face and behind his ear, before the stubborn hair immediately flew right back to where it was, fluttering gently in the wind. His deep, soulful eyes followed her every move, eyebrow elegantly raised in a hint of a grin, and it was just the _perfect_ moment and she really had always wanted to. Quickly, before she lost all her nerve, she kissed his cheek lightly and chastely._

_The resulting stutters and wide-eyed innocence emanating from him sent her into a peal of giggles, and she leaped up, offering her hand to him for assistance. He took it after a moment, and they chased each other down the roads back to her manor._

_The sun went down, drenching Port Royal in a dark blanket of night._

_Young Turner only realized later, walking down the road to the blacksmith's, that he had never delivered his message to the governor. It _was _important .. but the euphoric happiness emitting from the place on his cheek where Elizabeth had kissed him told him otherwise, and he dismissed the thought with a quick, 'I'll deliver the message tomorrow."_

_Whistling, his grin grew larger, and at the last lines of the tune he lowered his head and stepped through the threshold to the smithy, singing softly: "Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!"_

_-_

Fingering a dirty bracelet on her wrists, the frayed ends looking as though they had become undone quite often, and must had to have been retied countless times, Elizabeth Turner smiled a sad, heartbroken smile and set down her brush, gazing at her finished product.

Having never had lessons to do with art, nor having even seen a true set of oils before, the finished product was actually quite sloppy in appearance. She also only had available a select few colors.

A tear leaked out the corner of her eye and she brushed it away with slight disgust at herself (neutralized by a soft hiccup).

The painting depicted the very same garden she had once grown to dislike with a passion, and two children were seated upon the short white-marble wall surrounding the centerpiece - an outrageously recherché fountain. The boy and the girl both looked ridiculously out of place in the beautiful, majestic garden, covered in what was supposed to be dirt, but they were laughing, and holding a perfect-looking bouquet of daffodils in their connected palms.

Elizabeth couldn't help but think their smiles were the most beautiful things in the entire painting.

_You're my only real friend, Will. We shall be together forever!_

What a _cruel_ lie she spun.

What a horrible, horrible _lie_ this painting portrayed.

Furiously, heartbreakingly, painfully, she tore the canvas into pieces and threw them out into the ocean, where they drifted for eternity, the color running down to the depths of the great seas.

-

When the Captain of a certain Flying Dutchman, leaning over the railing, caught sight with his sharp eyes of a tattered piece of blank canvas, he had not a second thought of it.

-

_fin._

an;

one: okay, yeah, don't shoot me .. (nervous laugh) i know this has been done so many times before, and is mine totally unoriginal or what? also, i'm sorry if it's not in character. these pirates are difficult for me, because they have so many layers upon layers, and i'm not sure how each would react in situations. yeah.

two: yeah, so the canvas would probably sink eventually. shut up. just imagine it didn't. xD

three: i don't own anything, please review.


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